The Deeper the Wound, the Harder it Heals
by CarsCars2Fanatic
Summary: Extremely miserable with myself lately, and when I'm miserable, I type depressing things, so here's one of the many. I don't own Cars, if I did, I'd probably be not as angst-y. Takes place before Cars 2. Rated K for discussed death.


One morning, Fillmore woke up to find Foxy nowhere in sight. He rolled out of his dome, heading for Flo's, thinking that she was already there. However, she wasn't, as he quickly found out when Lightning asked him where she was. "I ain't seen her this morning at all." He replied.

"She's probably just goofing off with Harry or one of the other two." Doc suggested, but in spite of what he said, went to find her, since the others seemed worried.

It wasn't the first time she had gone missing for seemingly no reason, but it usually happened on February 17th or August 17th. That was what struck Doc as peculiar. The two days seemed completely ordinary, other then the fact that Foxy was never to be found on those days.

Foxy wasn't even close by the triplets, or the DRH. In fact, she was under a tree in the pine forest, leaning up against its trunk, reading the book Red had gotten her for her birthday one year. It was titled 'Black Beauty', and it was about a horse, and his life. As she absentmindedly stroked the black velvet cover, she sighed sadly, for the moment thankful that nobody was around.

She set the book down at the sound of an engine coming her way. It didn't pass her by, and she called out, "If it's all right, I'd like to be alone."

The sound of the engine stopped, and she picked up her book again, starting from where she had left off. The sound of the engine was soon heard again, and Foxy repeated her request. The car didn't stop this time, and Foxy turned away from the sound, her depression getting the better of her, intent not to let them see her like this, completely torn apart at the seams. Her hands shook from the pent-up thoughts swimming through her mind, and her gaze became distant, the words of the book becoming blurred. She allowed herself to sink into her subconscious, her thoughts berating her and screaming that she was to blame for everything that went wrong, that her father's passing was all her fault, that she was of no use, that she should've been in his place, that she would never get anywhere in life.

She didn't even notice that Doc was parked a few feet away, watching silently as she seemed to crumble in on herself like a decaying building. Her flimsy wall broke, and she seemed to cower against the tree, shaking as her thoughts ate away at her, ripping at her mind and clawing open her heart.

Doc rolled backwards only slightly in surprise; he could _feel_ the waves of her dark, depressing thoughts rolling past him as though he were parked in the ocean. His eyes cast downward to his hood as he heard a sound he thought he would never hear again emitting from the quivering form on the ground. Quiet sobbing.

Abruptly, she leapt to her feet, gave him a wet-eyed, scared-to-death look, one that he had seen before, then exclaimed, "It's all my fault! Every bit of it!" Then she raced away, deeper into the forest, clutching the book in one hand. Without hesitation, Doc sped after her, knowing what was wrong. He could hear her gasping for breath in between her sobs, and knew that she was close by. He drove around a large tree trunk, and there she was, her back leaning against a tree, her legs curled up to her chest, and the book clasped in between them and her chest. Her hood was still down, and her head was lowered, an attempt to shut out the entire world.

He wouldn't have it, and drove to her side to comfort her. He nudged her gently with a tire, and when she didn't move, he drew her closer to his left fender. He could feel her shaking uncontrollably, could still hear her sniffling and sobbing quietly, but still said nothing. He knew that she didn't want to talk or listen just yet, and that she would when she was ready.

"It's all my fault, him being dead. Why aren't I in his place? I deserve it for being a useless, pathetic waste that can't even do a single thing right! The last time I ever saw him, we fought!" She wailed around her sobs.

Doc frowned down at her. "You're not useless, you're not pathetic, you're not a waste, and you can do plenty of things correctly." He replied firmly.

She shook her head rapidly, and he nudged her again.

"And you don't deserve to be dead."

"Why shouldn't I? I'm absolutely pathetic! I've never gotten anything right in my life, and it's my own stupid fault for never paying attention well enough, for never trying anything new!" The rest of what she said was muffled, as she put her head down onto her knees and wept bitterly.

"You seem to have paid enough attention to learn how to make a fully functioning robotic tail. And how to read." Doc replied, looking down at her.

She dragged a sleeve across her eyes as she raised her head, and her tail chose that moment to wrap itself around one of her ankles.

"Believe it or not, I know that feeling. Right after the crash, it was all I thought about. I wouldn't even let visitors in the room." He nudged her gently with a fender, and she looked up at him, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Wh-What crash?" She asked, her hood reaching the tip of her nose, throwing her reddened eyes into shadow.

"You know that I used to be a racer."

She nodded silently, and he continued.

"Early in the 1954 season, a car like Chick thought he'd try to nudge me outta the way so he could get the win. What ended up happening was more then just a nudge. He sent me flyin' across the track. I must've rolled over five times, at least. By the time I was completely up and runnin', it was too late. My sponsor had found another car to race for them." He looked down at Foxy, who still didn't look much better then before.

"So they just dumped you?"

Doc nodded, and Foxy looked down, her hood covering her face again.

"No matter what you think, it wasn't your fault, Foxy. These things happen, and there often isn't anything we can do to change 'em." He replied with a sigh. "Nothin' you can say will bring 'em back, so there's no use beating yourself up over it."

She was silent for a few minutes, then replied quietly, "Thanks, Doc."

He dipped his hood in a nod, then in a flash, pulled down her hood and ruffled her hair, throwing her hood back up just as quickly, getting a small laugh from her for his efforts. "Don't mention it, kid."

Later, Doc left her side, sure that she would make her way back towards town when she was ready. He stopped suddenly, then turned around to face her form. "Today was his birthday, wasn't it?"

She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. A corner of her mouth twitched upwards, and Doc nodded once. "I imagine that he'd be mighty proud of you for remembering." Her head went down again, quickly, but he thought he could detect a hint of a smile as he turned away. "Another thing. Don't stay out too late, otherwise the others'll worry."

"All right."

**Not sure if I was even going to post this, so if you hate it, not my fault. I've been feeling extremely miserable with myself lately, so this is what came out of it. **


End file.
